


Seeking Sanctuary

by autisticdindjarin



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Injury, Mandomera, Mandomera Week 2021, Reunion, This may continue but we shall see, Winta has a kid, Yearning, injured!din
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autisticdindjarin/pseuds/autisticdindjarin
Summary: 19 years after Chapter 16, Din and Grogu find themselves on the run again. They stop at a familiar sanctuary.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24
Collections: Mandomera Week 2021





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> For Mandomera Week! I planned & wrote this in one day, and I don't know if I'll be continuing it, but I'm really liking it so far.

Din walked with a limp, Grogu at his side.

The village was different. Not drastically, but enough to notice the widening of new huts that had been added, even something resembling a main road through the middle of the homes. He looked down at Grogu, who gave him a shrug.

“Do you remember it here?” Din asked, pausing in their walk and taking a breath.

He was getting too old for this.

“Impressions. Vague,” came the 69 year old teenager’s voice. Din sighed, looking around, his interface scanning. By now some of the villagers noticed their presence, and hovered uncertainty along the edge of the village.

Din continued his scan, looking for a certain face. But he doubted she’d still be here. It’d been nearly two decades now.

“Frogs, there were,” Grogu added, a twinkle in his eye. Din tilted his head and side eyed him.

“Try and mind your manners,” he grumbled. Grogu smiled, silent as Din began his way forward once more.

A young woman was running out of the village towards them when he looked up again. She had held her skirts up to get out of the way of her charging feet. Din stiffened, hand hovering just slightly over his blaster, as her path seemed to be directly pointed at Grogu. He stepped in front of his son. The woman halted a few paces from them, her eyes bright and a familiar grin on her face.

“You’re back!” she exclaimed. She still hesitated before them, her eyes darting from Grogu to Din and back.

“Winta,” Grogu said, his head peeking around from Din’s leg. The woman beamed, and Din felt something in his chest strain as recognition came over him. She … she looked so  _ different  _ from the girl who’d chased frogs with Grogu around the small Sorgan village. But she also looked so much the same. Her hair fell back into a braid now, but flyways stood abundant and wild,and there sat that same mischievousness in her eyes.

Din cleared his throat and stepped to the side, and Winta took the invitation to fling herself at Grogu in a welcoming embrace. Grogu returned it just as tightly, Winta on her knees and clinging to him.

“I missed you so much, I’ve thought about you, I- I’m so happy to see you,” tears laced her voice. Din stood awkwardly, his leg still throbbing, hands fiddling at his belt. He looked over towards the village again, noting the gathering crowd. 

He was startled out of his observations when Winta captured him in a sudden hug as well. Not as vehemently as she’d done to Grogu, but very much unexpected. Din grunted, bracing himself with his good leg, and Grogu beamed at the sight of his Mandalorian father being dumbstruck by the hug of a backwater village woman.

Now Din  _ really  _ didn’t know what to do with his hands. He took a breath before awkwardly patting the back of Winta’s head. Grogu was full on  _ laughing,  _ and Din glared at him through his visor.

Soon enough it was over, and Din couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, but Winta didn’t seem to notice; her attention turned back to Grogu immediately.

“Mom will be so happy to see you- We’ve thought of you often, the whole village has. We tell stories about you to the kids,” she added, her voice like beaming sunshine, with the same kind intensity Din had remembered in Omera, though perhaps a bit louder, not as subtle.

Her words caught up to him a moment later.

“She … she’s here?” Din asked. Winta swiveled back towards him, eyes wide.

“Oh, yes! Come on, we’ll go see her,” she grabbed Din’s hand, ready to herd him off when Grogu commented.

“Father, hurt he is.”

Din’s helmet swiveled back towards his son in silent reprimand. Grogu didn’t look the least bit put off.

“Healed him, I did. But not fully.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?!” Winta stepped back, and Din huffed out in laughter at the thought. Winta would’ve been the one more likely to be hurt by the hug, with his beskar.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. He took care of most of it. Just, somewhere to sit would be nice,” he assured her, with another awkward little pat to her shoulder, trying to seem nonthreatening. Winta nodded solemnly. 

Din noted how expressive she still was, something he wasn’t used to seeing in this galaxy - Something he hadn’t fully seen since his last visit.

“We’ll go slow then,” Winta said, sharing a glance with Grogu, who walked by her side, easily keeping up with the languid pace she set.

As they entered the boundary of the village, Din recognized a few faces. Older and more lined, but still familiar. He even got a few waves. He didn’t bother reciprocating, but Grogu did, beaming as he put up a three fingered hand in greeting. 

Din’s focus remained instead on keeping himself standing straight - He had landed their ship, the  _ Mudhorn, _ a ways out in a forest clearing, and he’d underestimated the toll it would take on his injuries.

Winta led them to the same hut she and Omera had called home years before. It had been upgraded, and Din noted that new space had been added. A growing family, perhaps?

Winta nudged his side.

“We have enough room now; you don’t have to sleep in the barn this time. Spotchka’s popularity rose around the galaxy the past decades, and the village has been doing well, especially after you got rid of those Klatoonian raiders.”

“The village got rid of them. I just gave them the tools,” Din argued, but it was weak, and Winta rolled her eyes at him. He wondered what it was like, being comfortable with such familiarity towards someone you hadn’t seen in years.

Din hesitated at the doorway when Winta opened it, and let Grogu go ahead of him. His chest felt tight now, like his beskar had shrunk, and his mouth went south of dry. Winta furrowed her brow at him, urging him onwards with a hand on his elbow.

“Mom, guess who I found?” she called into the house. She stepped in, and Din came up behind her.

His vision quickly adjusted to the dim light of the hut’s interior, the filter within helping. It was a modest, homey little place that settled a warmth and comfort in his chest. 

And he wanted more of it.

His attention left the scanning of the interior soon enough when someone rounded the corner from the other room- the kitchen, he thought - and any sense of reason abandoned him.

But Grogu made himself at home, His hands stretched out and he walked towards the surprised looking woman.

Omera was different, yet so heartbreakingly the same. Gray now lined her hair, especially at the sides, and her beauty had matured into something that made Din curse his decision to leave even more. 

He gulped under the helmet, aware of how he looked  _ worse-  _ his armor no longer new and shiny, battered in places- though he hadn’t been much to look at to begin with, considering he hid everything under layers of beskar and duraweave and weaponry.

Her eyes met his helmet, and something flashed in them before she was pulling herself together and reaching her hands towards Grogu.

“Oh my, you’ve grown,” Omera said as Grogu clasped her hands and squeezed.

“Good to see you, it is,” said Grogu.

Din jerked out of his staring when Winta tugged him towards a chair. She did so gently, but insistent, and he let her guide him. He managed to stay quiet as he lowered himself, his leg burning hot.

“Where are you hurt?” she asked as she hovered over him.

“Hurt?” Omera questioned before Din could answer, walking over with Grogu close by.

“His leg,” Grogu said, putting a hand on Din’s left boot. Din huffed, feeling a little suffocated with all three of them worrying over … him. Omera sensed his unease.

“Here, let me look. Winta, why don’t you get some clean water for me? And you, I just made some bread rolls if you’d like to sneak into the kitchen for some,” she smiled, the last part directed towards Grogu. It was nice. Gentle, warm. Familiar. Kind. Din kept watching her as their children left the room. Omera brought over a small stool to sit on and began unfastening his boot, her fingers finding latches with the confidence of someone who knew their way around body armor.

He should say something, shouldn’t he? What was he supposed to do with his hands? Could she hear his heart racing through the beskar? Probably not. Stars, he hoped not.

“It’s been awhile,” Omera broke the quiet. She lifted up his foot carefully and started slipping his boot off. He held in a pained grunt and focused on conversation. 

_ Say something. Anything. _

“Yeah.”

Well, that was a word.

Omera’s eyes glimmered up at him, wise and brown and deep and  _ beautiful _ and Din gulped again.   
“How did you get hurt?” she asked. Din paused for thought.

“I … There was an attack. I was worse. A lot worse. Grogu, he healed what he could, but it takes a lot, he was already tired …. “ his voice drifted off. He remembered the screams, the acrid smell of burnt flesh, the crumbling of stone. He could hear it all, see it all,  _ taste  _ it all in that one moment. 

Omera’s brow furrowed and she rested a hand on his good knee. He jerked back to reality, but sweat now beaded his brow.

“Grogu?” Omera questioned. Din paused, trying to think. Right. She wouldn’t know his name.

“The kid. That’s, uh, that’s his name. Was always his name, just didn’t figure it out until later,” Din shrugged.

“Ah. It fits him, somehow,” Omera said, tightly, her gaze still on her task at hand. She rolled the loose leg of his pants up, noted the haphazard wrapping, and began untying it.

“Got hit by a laser sword a few times. That wasn’t the worst of them,” he nodded towards the injury she revealed. He winced at the inflammation surrounding the charred skin. It had been cut through the bone initially, but Grogu had healed it. Some. It was still deep, and threatened him with infection to add along with the pain.

Omera made a sympathetic sound that reached into Din and calmed him. He relaxed back against his chair. To the side, Winta came in with a bucket of water. Her eyes were worried as she stepped forwards.

“Winta, get me some clean rags from the sewing kit? And some of that kolto gel from the cellar,” Omera asked. Winta nodded and scurried out once again.

“Kolto gel?” Din questioned, recognizing the name of the outdated medicine. He hadn’t heard it for a while.

“Sorry, it’s not often we have bacta around here, but kolto works pretty well if not as up to par.”

“No, it’s fine. Just never heard of it in gel,” Din shrugged.

“One of the villagers married a man whose father is in the dying kolto business, so we get a good stock of it around here, and cheaper than the usual. It’s better than nothing, like we used to have, and cheaper. Winta calls it the poor man’s bacta,” Omera chuckled. Winta came back at that moment, as if summoned, her hair having escaped its braid even more now. She looked frazzled.

“I need to go pick up Lori from Cheri’s,” she said. Her hands twisted together with anxiety.

“Okay. Why don’t you take Grogu with you?” Omera suggested. Her eyes flashed over towards Din for silent permission. He nodded.

“Grogu?” Winta questioned.

“That’s the kid’s name,” Omera chuckled. Winta gave her a quick smile and agreed, then fetched Grogu from the kitchen. They quickly made their exit, and the room went quiet again. 

Din closed his eyes behind the helmet as he felt a wet rag begin rubbing at his wound. His hands clenched at his sides. It’d been awhile since he’d taken such a beating. And Force users were a tough crowd.

“So. Laser sword? Healing? Sounds like you’ve been through a lot since we parted,” Omera said. Her words sounded casual, steady, but Din opened his eyes because he could detect that hint of old hurt.

“We have. We were on the run well after a year since we left Sorgan.” He made his words as gentle as he could. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and he didn’t want to cause anymore of that pain.

_ Then why return? _

Maybe he was getting selfish in his desperation.

Omera hummed, continuing her task. Her touch was soothing, careful, but the injury still burned and Din flinched when she hit a spot that made his skin scream and tighten.

“Sorry. I’m guessing you’re human, right? I hope? I mean, I don’t mean that in a hostile way, just that I’m not versed at all in medical care for nonhumans,” she amended, and Din had to chuckle. Perhaps she was just as nervous as him, underneath it all. But she kept up a straight face - she didn’t have a barrier holding her expressions away from the world.

“I am,” he answered simply, though the reeling of his mind was anything but. He struggled, and he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how. He was hyper aware of how he might be perceived, and it scared him, the thought of offending her in some way. Or intimidating, like he did to most people. It was silly - she wasn’t one to mistake meanings like that, in fact, she was often the one to soothe things over from what he recalled. 

He hesitated at the silence that fell over them. While it could have been relaxing, there was a tension that hovered in the air, accelerated by every awed look he gave her and every soft touch she gave him.

“You’re versed in medical care for humans?” he asked. Her cheeks darkened.

“Some … well, outdated, really. I was trained as a battlefield medic.”

“That’s impressive,” Din commended.

Omera glanced up at him and shrugged.

“It was a long time ago. Here, this is going to make your leg go a little numb, so I won’t recommend walking any long distances. You can stay here tonight, Winta and I can set up Lori’s room for you,” Omera said. She rubbed the kolto gel over his burn with a clean rag. Her fingers were so long. Dignified looking and comforting but steady and sure and  _ kriff he needed to focus on something else. _

“Who is Lori?” he asked, though he considered himself to be prying now.

Omera beamed, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Lori is my granddaughter. Winta’s daughter, can you believe that?”

No. No, he really couldn’t. Winta, a mother? She seemed too damned young. But that small girl was just in his memories now.

“I didn’t realize. We don’t want to take anyone’s space up, though-”

“It’s fine, Lori sleeps with Winta a lot of nights anyway - it’s nothing unusual, though we’ve been trying to get her to use her own bed more,” Omera cut him off, shaking her head as she finished off with his leg. Din hummed at the cool feeling spreading from his shin, the burning pain retreating. It was also making his mind drift more, enticing his eyes to slip shut. Adrenaline had left him with bone deep tiredness. He pressed on despite it.

“How old is she?”

“Six and a handful. Every bit as hyperactive as Winta was -  _ is _ ,” Omera corrected, still hovering at his side where she sat upon the uncomfortable looking stool. She met his gaze and paused.

“We’ve thought about you often here,” she said, rolling his pants leg back down. She avoided her fresh bandaging with care.

“Winta told us,” Din nodded. His lips pressed tight together before he spoke again. “We - we thought about you too. A lot. About you and Winta, I mean.”

“You never …. You never contacted us,” Omera said, and there was that hurt again. Din frowned, surprised at her response.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to …. “ his voice drifted off lamely. Omera shook her head.

“It’s … I thought maybe you weren’t able to, that something had happened or-” she took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling and appearing to gather her thoughts. “Or you didn’t care.”

He leaned forward, reaching out and taking the long, perfect hand that still rested against his knee. It fit nicely within his own, and he could feel the warmth of it through his gloves. He gave it a soft little squeeze, and she gripped his hand in return.

“I always cared,” he answered. Her gaze drifted back to his visor again, something deep and questioning in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off as a little tornado surged into the room.

“Mamaw!” came the high pitched squeal of a little girl. Din let go of Omera’s hand and leaned away, eyes turning to the door as Winta and Grogu made their way inside, laughing. They didn’t seem to have any trouble picking up right where they’d left off 19 years ago, though Grogu had more part in the conversation now.

Omera scooped her small lanky granddaughter up into her lap to receive an enthusiastic embrace.

“Were you good for Cheri?” she asked. Lori’s head bobbed up and down before she swiveled to put her eyes on Din. He was a bit taken aback by the pure admiration he saw in them, wanting to shy away. He didn’t deserve it.

“Are you  _ the _ Mandalorian?” Lori asked, about to surge forwards towards him, but Omera held her back with a laugh.

“Careful, he’s not feeling well right now,” she whispered, squeezing Lori close to her.

“ _ The _ Mandalorian?” Din asked with wry amusement.

“Yeah! The one Mamaw and Momma always talk about at bedtime stories?” Lori asked, still squirming in Omera’s hold. Din gave Omera a questioning tilt of his helmet, and she seemed flustered, while Winta laughed in the background.

“Maybe,” Din replied. Lori beamed even wider than that.

“So you can’t take the helmet off?” she immediately questioned.

“ _ Lori _ ,” Omera chided, and Winta made a tsking sound to the side.

“Not in front of others. Except family,” Din amended, glancing over to Grogu. His son seemed absorbed in devouring some more bread rolls.

“Hey!” he said quickly, pointing at the guilty teenager. “We didn’t come here to eat all their food. Leave  _ some _ .”

Grogu looked up at him with half a bread roll sticking out of his mouth, eyes wide and innocent.

“I can always make some more,” Winta shrugged, lightly bopping the top of Grogu’s head. Grogu inhaled the rest of his roll at that assurance.

“Yes, more they can make,” he nodded at Din with a shit eating grin.

Lori, however, was still hyper focused on Din. He didn’t mind, exactly. She had leaned forward in Omera’s lap now, giving him an almost conspiratol look as she whispered.

“ _ Do you have a blaster?” _

“I do. But it’s dangerous. I only use it when I need it,” he answered, pointedly keeping his hand away from his holster. Lori bounced at his answer. And then came a whole blinding reel of questions.

“Is it true that you took down a whole walker by yourself? Do you have a ship? Can I see your ship sometime? Can you teach me how to fly it? Do you have a real name or is it real secret because you’re a superhero and ‘posed to hide your in-dentity?” she stumbled over the mispronounced word but kept right on, bombarding Din with enough questions that he wondered how big her lung capacity was, “Why’d you leave Sorgan? Didn’t you like it here? I love it here. Was it the krill? Some people don’t like the smell of krill. Can you smell stuff in your helmet? Can you make your voice sound different with it? Is that actually your real voice or a vo -- vocabialator? Did you know that I was named after you?-”

She continued on, but that one question had Din frozen still. Named after him. How? They didn’t even know ….

It hit him then. Lori. Manda- _ lori- _ an. And a nearly terrifying wave of emotion hit him then, enough that Grogu peered over at him with a frown, but Din couldn’t help it. He’d only been in Sorgan for a few months, tops, and to think he had left such an impact on Winta to name her  _ daughter _ after him. And stars, he was blinking back tears. The kolto didn’t help.

“I think we need to let Mando rest,” Omera finally said over Lori’s tirade, her eyes concerned as she looked at Din. Kriff, how did she always know? It was like she saw right through him, from the first day they met. It unnerved him to the point of wanting to run away those many years before, but now … now it was like coming home.


	2. Family

The first week in Sorgan had been filled with a bounty of relaxation and sleep and a domesticity that felt unfamiliar to Din. 

Grogu adjusted well to it, and Din supposed it was some semblance of what it’d been like for him at the Jedi Temple. Routine and warm meals and shared laughter that reminded Din - just faintly, a fading  _ ripple  _ of memory - of his own childhood on Aq Vetina.

The best part of the days here were always at the end, when they all came together. Winta’s wife, Vinita, joined them from working as the village’s only schoolteacher, and they gathered around the small fireplace that exuded warmth and peace almost as well as Omera’s family did. 

Somehow he always found himself sitting next to Lori, who had been trailing him like a loth-cat after a yarn ball. Grogu had made his own seat claimed next to Winta and Vinita, who both adored the adolescent humor that Din had trouble keeping up with. He’d roll his eyes under his helmet but it still warmed his heart to see them all like this. Happy. Serene.  _ Family. _

Omera sat on the opposite side of him on the long couch directly in front of the fire. Lori had tired herself out with rambling some time ago, and Din had been amused to find she’d fallen asleep nestled up against his beskar, which  _ stars _ , that couldn’t be comfortable. 

He hesitated after a good half hour of her resting there, not wanting to wake her, but he carefully managed to tug his cape out from under his shoulder, bunching it up to prop her head against it. Lori mumbled something in her sleep. Din smiled, a hand reaching to brush wayward wild hair out of her face. It looked much like Winta’s.

“You’re good with her,” came Omera’s warm voice. Din paused then peered over at her.

“I don’t know about that. She’s just easily entertained,” he shrugged, his voice low; he was well aware of the sleeping child propped against his side.

“You’ll want to wash that cape later - she drools in her sleep,” Winta teased from across the room, making Grogu giggle around the cookie he was eating. 

Din wasn’t sure how Omera had any food left at this point - his son was due for another growth spurt. He was small, yes, but the amounts he’d been devouring lately made Din’s own stomach ache.

“It’s seen worse,” he snorted, making Grogu laugh more.

Din glanced over and caught Omera’s spaced out stare on him. He frowned, shifting -  _ not _ squirming - where he sat.

“You okay?” he asked, voice just right for only her to catch. She blinked and shook her head, smiling.

“Yes. I got lost in thought there,” she admitted. Her hand moved up to squeeze his upper arm, right under the left pauldron. She had often gifted him with small touches like that since he and Grogu had arrived once again on her doorstep. Goosebumps shivered across his hidden skin every time. He wasn’t complaining about it.

As conversation began to die down and the sun set and settled over the forested Sorgan horizon, Vinita gathered Lori carefully up from Din’s side.

“Thank you, Mando. She never falls asleep so easily for us,” she chuckled and shook her head. Din shrugged.

“I think she just wears herself out with all the questions,” he answered.

“Ah, I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not one to deny a child curiosity,” she grinned. Winta stepped beside her, running a hand over the surface of Lori’s hair and pressing a soft kiss to her wife’s cheek.

“Night all,” she said cheerfully, her eyes shining, and Din could see how truly happy she was. 

Grogu tilted his head to the side where he still perched upon a smaller chair that Lori had shared with him. 

He noticed everything. 

Sometimes that was a good thing. Sometimes it left Din feeling annoyed, having to explain last night that no, Omera certainly didn’t look at him like he was the last cookie, where did Grogu even  _ come up with these things _ .

But eventually, Grogu toddled off to bed, leaving Omera and Din alone, a fact which hit Din like a freighter in an asteroid field.

“You’re tense. Is your leg hurting?” Omera asked. Din huffed out a sound of laughter.

“No, I just - I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. He twisted the drooled covered end of his cape on his lap. “Your family is nice.” The afterthought came too quick, and he felt stupid once he said it, bumbling and nervous.

Omera chuckled.

“So is yours, you know.”

He paused at that. 

Sure, Grogu was his son, they were family, a clan, but he had never heard the word  _ nice  _ to describe their unconventional familial ties. More often, the impressions he got were strange, or curious, or bewildered. Not  _ nice _ . Certainly not anything near resembling normal.

“He’s … something,” Din said with wry amusement. “Everything, really,” he clarified. His eyes drifted and he lost his thoughts in the fireplace.

Omera leaned up against his side and steadily ripped him from his quiet musings. He took a breath, very  _ aware _ of how warm she felt through his flight suit. His nerves rattled into a tangle of chaos inside his head; he willed himself not to tense. He didn’t want to discourage … this. Whatever this was.

Instead, his arm raised and slid over her shoulders and brought her closer and he felt like he had slipped into the middle of a very pleasant spice dream.

She relaxed further into his hold, and Din felt something in his chest give, something that had ached inside of him for a very long time.

* * *

Mornings almost always came bright on Sorgan. This one made a harsh exception. Thunder rumbled through the whole hut - were the walls  _ shaking _ ? Din sat upright, jerked out of his peaceful warm slumber. Rain cascaded down in sheets against the thatched roof. A leak had begun right in front of the burnt out fireplace, water coming down in a steady and persistent  _ drip drip drip. _

Omera stirred beside him. Had they …. ? They had. They’d fallen asleep cuddled on the couch like a pair of partied out teenagers. Din held back a yawn, carding a gloved hand through her hair.

“It’s okay. Storm,” he said, still groggy with sleep. Omera hummed, tucking her head against his side. It was almost relaxing, until another sharp smack of thunder hit them. That was  _ entirely  _ too close to the hut for comfort.

Grogu dashed out of the bedroom before Din had time to think, big eyes finding him. Din could see the fear in them.

“Hey,” he said, gently disentangling himself from Omera and standing up, his shoulders strained and aching from the less than ideal sleeping position. Grogu trembled. Din had never seen him like this, and he immediately went forwards. He scooped his son up against his chest. Omera had come up behind him and placed her hand on the middle of Din’s back.

“What’s wrong? You okay, kid?” Din asked, his concern weighing heavy now. Grogu’s ears drooped. His small three fingered hands found the sides of Din’s helmet. Din leaned forwards so that his helmet touched Grogu’s forehead.

“The temple. A … A dream, I had.” The smaller than usual voice explained.

A nightmare, then.

Din hummed sympathetically. Those same images had haunted him the past week they’d been here. It surprised him that it hadn’t hit Grogu sooner, though he had noted his sons tossing and turning during the nights.

“I think I’ll make us some tea,” Omera spoke, her interjection quiet. Din nodded.

“Thank you. I - We’ll be in the room,” he told her. She gave him a little smile and nodded back before making her way to the kitchen.

Grogu clung to Din, and he brought him into the little bedroom. He sat down, putting Grogu to his side.

They sat in simple silence. Din remained patient, waiting. Finally Grogu spoke.

“You died.”

Din tilted his helmet over him at the words, before moving to slip it off. Fresh air hit his face and he ran a hand down it, grimacing at the feel of facial hair he hadn’t taken a chance to groom in over a week. But his eyes found Grogu’s.

“I didn’t,” he said. Simple, but true.

“The edge of death, you stood on. Better, I could have done. Sorry,” his son whispered, grief evident in his eyes. Din leaned over, rubbing Grogu’s small back.

“Hey, no. You saved me, and exhausted yourself doing it too. Don’t be- Don’t be  _ sorry _ ,” Din said, trying to wrap his head around what Grogu was feeling. “I’d do it again, kid. I’d do it a thousand times.”

“ _ No _ ,” Grogu said, voice sharp and loud and startling Din. He raised his eyebrows over towards his very frustrated,  _ scared _ looking son.

“Family. You’re my family. My only, now,” Grogu said, quieter than before, with his ears nearly reaching down to his lap. His shoulders slumped along with them, sad and forlorn. Din squeezed his shoulder.

“That’s what families do. What a clan does. We protect each other, okay? I, in fact,  _ like _ protecting you. I like seeing you alive and well. And happy, if I can,” the words spilled out of Din, more than he was used to at one time, especially so early in the morning.

“My Jedi family … gone,” Grogu said, mournful, and Din’s heart twisted.

“I would have protected them too, if I could have,” he said quietly. Grogu’s little laugh made his brow furrow.

“Protect you would, yes. Always. A father, you are. By blood not, but by soul, yes.”

The little words of wisdom coming from the teenage Jedi had Din turning his head away, suppressing the deep emotion that slammed into him. His fingers traced over the top of Grogu’s head, down to the tip of one ear. He tugged at it, with a hint of playfulness.

“Well. Someone had to do it.”

Grogu’s face buried hard into his side and wrapped Din in a tight little hug. Din took a deep breath and ran his hand over the kid’s back, trying to comfort him in some way.

“We’ll figure it out. Just … we’ll keep going, okay?”

Grogu nodded against his side. His breathing had evened out now, but he sounded more tired than when he first woke up. Grogu jumped as thunder clapped again, this time further away; the storm was settling down now, with a peaceful splatter of slow rain replacing it. Din held him closer.

* * *

Grogu eventually fell back to sleep, and Din tucked him in. He held his handback from running across Grogu’s small, vulnerable looking face before he slipped his helmet back on. The smell of tea hit him as he left the room. Winta and Vinita looked at him as he stepped out of the small bedroom. They lounged across the ouch Din and Omera had fallen asleep on last night. Din nodded at them. Vinita beamed, concerningly bright and bubbly every morning. Meanwhile, Winta looked her usual morning sour. Din smiled and walked into the kitchen.

Omera sat at the table with an empty cup in front of her. Two other cups - full - sat at the side.

“He fell back asleep.” The chair scraped across the floor and Din sat down. He noticed the frame of it creaking at his weight, seeming loud with the eerie dawn backdropped by rain. Omera nodded.

“I was going to bring it in to you, but I heard some serious conversation going on. I didn’t want to interrupt. I wasn’t sure if you had your helmet on,” she said.

“I didn’t.” Din looked over at the tea in front of him, calculating.

“You can take it into the room, I don’t expect you to drink it out here,” Omera said quickly.

“It’s fine,” Din shrugged, and he lifted his helmet just enough for a long draw of the perfectly not-too-cold and not-too-hot tea. He didn’t miss Omera’s sharp intake of breath, and he could see her turning her face away through the awkwardly tilted angle of his visor.

He sat the tea down, having drunk half of it swiftly. A pleasant warmth bloomed through his torso.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he muttered. He pulled the helmet back down. Omera turned to him with a befuddled gaze. Her bottom lip jutted out in a frown and it was kind of adorable. Din cleared his throat and tapped his fingers over the surface of the table.

“You - you didn’t, I was trying to avoid the opposite,” she laughed, shaking her head. “Is that … Was that allowed?”

Din hesitated.

“It’s complicated.”

“Like what brought you here?” she mused, eyes meeting his, a glint of teasing in them. Din smiled.

“Two different kinds of complicated.”

Omera laughed again. He wanted to keep hearing that sound forever. He leaned forward some, sighing.

“You can stay here for … for as long as you need, you know. We’re happy to have you here again, with more than a barn to offer for lodging.”

“We won’t overstay our welcome,” Din said, almost in a questioning voice..

“You couldn’t. Not here. We like you here. Winta sees Grogu as her long lost brother, you know. And Lori has become very attached.”

Din sighed, his gaze meeting hers again, this time holding it.

“And what about you?”

Omera’s cheeks darkened, flustered, but her hand moved across the table. Her fingertips brushed excruciatingly lightly against his.

“What about me?” she asked. Her voice smiled.

“What do you see me - us,” he corrected himself swiftly, “as?”

Omera peered at him, a sincere look in her eyes that read somehow sad and happy at the same time.

“Mando, you’re like family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, It's been a very long time since I've updated a fic for two days straight.


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